Even In the Brightest Light there are still Shadow
by Hikari Draiku
Summary: Malik is to inherit the demon throne if he can prove himself in a battle against the angels. Mariku is an outofplace angel. When they meet they can only change the future for better of worse..but which?
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Marik sat up in his cot and stretched one day, spreading his wings and arms at the same time. He yawned, covering his mouth with a hand, and smacked his lips. He gazed around sleepily for a second, and finally stood up and yawned yet again. Needless to say, Marik was not a quick person in the morning.

Finally, after he'd stretched and yawned about eight more times, he gazed out of the small window in his room. It was light in the realm of Angels, and as usual, Marik was probably the only one up. He grinned slightly and quickly dressed in his uniform, a blue, long-sleeved shirt, and black pants. While he was putting on his shoes, he spread his wings out to keep balance. Finally, Marik left the dorm room and ran down the hallway.

After he stopped at the end of the hallway, he flicked around and cupped both hands over his mouth.

"Wake up, you lazy, fat-asses!" he yelled at the top of his lungs. Groans and cursing could be heard from each room, and he grinned and laughed. He paraded down the hallway, knocking on each door with one of his shoes. "Get up already! We don't have all day! Let's go, let's move it! Up, up, up!"

A tall, muscular man with bent wings came stomping towards Marik. He seemed to be quite peeved, but one could understand why. He was still in his pink, polka-dot pajamas.

"Ishtal!" he bellowed. Marik smiled innocently and tilted his head to the left.

"Why, what ever is the problem, Commander?" he said in his best "I'm so innocent, look at me" voice. Down the hallway, people opened their doors and peered out curiously.

"Ishtal, this is the last time you do this!" the commander roared, jabbing a finger at Marik. The young Angel yawned and folded his wings against his back.

"How do you know that? I was thinking of doing it again after the battle tomorrow," he said dully. The commander gritted his teeth.

"Ishtal, you're the first person I've said this to. I hope you _die_ in tomorrow's battle!" he yelled, and stomped off.

"Hey, it might just happen! You'd better pray, chief!" Marik yelled after him. He snickered evilly, sounding very anti-Angel indeed. Some of the other Angels in the dorms whispered to each other, and others glared. Marik just smirked and walked to the mess hall to get breakfast. He got in line with the others, who all did their best to avoid brushing elbows with him.

"Good morning, Marik," the lunch lady said with a scowl. All the faculty at the base knew his name well. He was the most fiendish Angel they'd ever seen, and all agreed that he should have been born with black, bat wings instead of feathery white ones.

"Good morning to you too, Gwen. Chipper as usual, I see?" Marik said with mock enthusiasm.

"Just get yer eggs and leave, buster," Gwen growled, and shoved a plate at him with one gorilla-like arm.

"Thank you, Gwen. Have an excellent day," he said with a grin and grabbed the plate. He got his breakfast, a pathetic pile of scrambled eggs, and a thin piece of bacon, as well as nearly-expired milk. Marik swore that the lunch people were hoarding all the old, crappy stuff behind the counter just for him. He sighed and sat down at his usual table, the one in the back corner of the mess hall. It was secretive and isolated, so no one else sat there. Marik sighed again, sadly this time.

Though he was a very outgoing-sort of person, no one wanted to interact with him. They all thought that he was part Demon, even if he wasn't. They avoided him at all costs, though Marik was usually a friendly person. He was isolated; an outcast Angel.

"Maybe I should have been born a Demon," he muttered with a sigh. The bacon was hard to eat, as usual, and the eggs felt as though they were made of rubber. Marik didn't even bother to try the milk—it looked toxic. He looked enviously at the other Angels in the mess hall. All of them were sitting and chatting with friends. Some of them sat with their boyfriend or girlfriend, while others just hung out with the group. He so wanted to be one of them. Popular. Loved. Even if he had just one friend, he'd feel great.

"Yeah, I definitely should have been born a Demon," he mumbled and rested his arms on the table. Maybe then people would like him. He frowned and leaned back in the chair, gazing up to the ceiling. He didn't know why he was looking at it—it was a dull, white color with a few blotches here and there from times the ceiling leaked.

The bell rang and he got up, leaving his tray. The lunch ladies could pick it up later. It was _their_ mess hall, not his. He scowled and left the hall and went outside for roll call. As usual, the commander said his surname, rather than his first and last name.

_I don't see why I just don't leave,_ he thought with a mental scowl. Then he remembered—how else was he supposed to pay for college? His entire family was dirt-poor, he couldn't keep a job for more than three days, and he hadn't earned one scholarship at all in high school. The only way he could make any money whatsoever was by joining the military and thus possibly risking his life.

They were sent to training sessions, and Marik was sent to the hardest one, as usual. Thankfully, he'd gotten used to having to crawl through fake trenches and dodge harmless bullets. He'd only been hit twice since he started, but now that there was a battle the next morning, all of the training was a world harder.

"Remember! You'll be out in the real world, fighting these Demons! They won't hesitate to kill you! Demons are cruel, heartless creatures with no mercy in their heart! Even if you survive, and you're taken to interrogation, they'll beat you so badly, you wish that you'd never been born!" the commander bellowed. Marik felt the blood rush from his head, and he stumbled a bit. "Ishtal! What are you doing??! If you stumble at the battle, you'll die!" the commander roared.

"Sir, yes, sir!" Marik yelled, saluting quickly and continuing.

The rest of the day was similar, and almost all of his training sessions ended in him being yelled at for missing a target, tripping, or even scratching an itch on his nose. By the end of the day, everyone had received their guns and armor. Of course, Marik received armor a size too big for him, and an unreliable gun. As far as the commanders were concerned, he was trash; something you needed to throw away.

He returned to his room and gazed out the tiny window. In the distance, he could see the Demon Headquarters. It wasn't too far off, probably fifty miles or so. It was very large, a bit bigger than the Angel Headquarters. He sighed and pulled out a pen and paper to write to his parents back at home.

_Dear Mom and Dad,_

_Well, I'm heading out to battle tomorrow. The commanders and most of the troops are quite nervous about the entire thing, as I am. Then there are the idiots who are actually eager to kill someone. I sure as hell am not. I've already promised myself to not shoot my gun, no matter what. So you might not hear from me again if things are bad. Most likely, I'll be killed by one of the commanders. Today they were especially mean, but I can't mention any details._

_Besides the fact that I'll be dodging bullets tomorrow, things aren't going so great. I'm lonelier than ever out here without you and sister Isis. Tell her that I miss her, and I hope she's doing alright. I'll try my ha__rdest to stay alive, I promise. If I don't come back, I leave all my possessions to you two so you can hopefully s__ell them and get some money._

_Hoping to see you again,_

_Marik_

He folded the letter, slipped it into an envelope, and set it on his desk. He wrote "Send to Parents" on the front, and sat back in his seat. He sighed again, picked it up, and kissed it gently. Then he set it back down and crawled into bed, dreams of his home making him feel less worried about the next day.

**TBC**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**(sorry for the long wait)**

The soft sound of feathers ruffling announced the awakening of 107-year-old Malik Ishtar, heir to the demon throne. Purple eyes opened sleepily and tanned arms were raised above his head in a stretch. He flicked his sand coloured hair over one shoulder and swung his legs over the side of the stone slab he had been resting on.

Malik walked slowly to a thin metal frame with clothing draped over it, running his hand along the silky material of the violet undershirt before tugging it on. His black wings fluttered in protest as he pressed them through the roughly cut holes in the shirt, before settling once more against his back. Malik next raised startlingly bright silver chain mail, black strands of thread woven between the metal scales. He pulled it over his head and it tightened to accommodate his feminine figure, surprisingly light, almost as though he wasn't wearing it.

The blonde demon wrapped thick, bandage like material around each leg from just below his knee to his hips. The black material clung to him like a second skin and allowed full flexibility to his lithe form. A skirt like scale male, much like the top he now wore, was next to be pulled past his long, slim legs. The skirt shone brightly, the hem hovering just above his knees, two slits along both sides straight to his upper thighs.

Malik smirked in satisfaction, running his hands over the now complete outfit of war amour happily, admiring the way it shone. The full-length mirror flashed in the corner of his eyes and he spun around to face it, now scowling.

He reached his arm out and extended one of his ebony wings to full length, the mass of black feathers easily larger then him. His fingers clasped the one pearly white feather and he tore it viciously from his delicate wing, spraying flecks of blood onto the elegant mirror.

"Third one this week…what in the name of Lucifer himself is wrong with me?"

Malik ran the silky feather through his slender fingers, a slight frown marring his features as he sunk deeper into confusing about the pure white feathers occasionally growing in his normally ebony wings.

He spun around quickly, feather behind his back as his door crashed open and a furious looking male stormed in, cursing under his breath and pacing.

"Bakura!"

The newcomer whirled around as Malik snapped his name, eyes narrowing in disrespect, "…Malik."

"What in the name of Lucifer are you doing in my quarters!?!"

Bakura rolled his eyes and threw himself gracelessly into a stiff armchair, wings whispering at the sudden movement.

"Please Malik, just because you have your own quarters and because those musty old men favor you, doesn't mean that you or that bitch Yami can control me!"

Ryou smirked and drifted over to the bed, wings folding behind him as he perched on the silky sheets, "You and Yami had a…'conversation' again hmm?"

Bakura snarled, wings snapping open in anger and frustration, "If by conversation you mean him telling me where I can and cannot go! I can't wait until he drops dead of something."

Malik's fangs glinted as he smirked again at the raging demon, guessing what the two had been fighting about. "Yami doesn't approve of you stalking around in the human realm? Or were you just mocking him? You shouldn't you know, what with the upcoming war straining on us all."

Bakura muttered angrily, "How could I forget? What with you commanding over _me_. He's doing it on purpose you know, just to piss me off."

"Yes Bakura, because it has nothing to do with me being a better commander or anything." Malik mocked the older male, enjoying the anger flitting across the demons face.

Bakura hissed angrily and swept to his feet, gliding out the door with a searing glare in Maliks direction.

Malik waiting until he could no longer hear the rustling of the other mans footsteps before letting out a deep breath and pulling the white feather from his sleeve.

He walked over to a small table, covered in jewellery and uncovered a small wooden box, no wider than his wrist and no longer than his hand. He ran a sharp finger nail along the barely noticeable crevice and it slid open to reveal a small nest of pearly white feathers.

Malik frowned again and placed the most recent feather amongst its brothers, before snapping the lid shut and concealing it inside another box.

"Careful Bakura, I may just lose my position as heir and commander soon enough."

**End Chapter**


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